then i try to remember where i put the bong and eventually make it to the front door.
i open it to greet the california sun and to see what sorta mail found my little home.
usually theres a nice load of dog crap piled in the exact center of my porch and some little flies trying to get what the big flies seem to want.
its so awesome.
i take a look at the plants. one of my plants is actually chris’ – a few are actually – but one of em has a pot that doesnt have any drain holes so i make sure its not drowning. then i make sure some of the other plants arent getting eaten by snails. then i see that the spider plant isnt getting too much sun and that the ivy is getting watered enough.
that covers all of the sun i will get.
rice krispies are eaten out of the box. a bottle of water is opened. a bong is nearly tripped over aka discovered so then its time to find the weed. the answering machine might be blinking the cell phone might be chirping, the alarm clock might go off, but what sort of isla vistan would i be without the ceremonial wake and bake.
and then i piss, shake, brush my teeth and see if someones still in my house.
usually they’ll sneak out in the middle of the night. sometimes when i open the front door they’ll run out the back. those are the girls i like. those are the ones who i can relate to.
the ones who stay, however, and feel around for a robe or ask if theres a clean towel or gasp coffee, seem to be the ones ive attracted recently.
as in currently.
coffee is for swallowers i tell her
and she looks me right in the eyes
raccoon slept in eyeliner circling bloodshot blue
so pale so fun so young
and opens her mouth wider than she knows she needs to.
and over coffee we watch tv and see that theres a
cash free monopoly
and strangely thats the thing that blows my mind before noon.